Saturday, May 2, 2009

Steve goes to the cock fights

I want to caution you that this deals with cockfighting. I realize that some people will find the subject disgusting or worse, and if this is the case, just delete it. You might not want your kids reading this. Then again, this is part of real life in some cultures, so maybe you do. As they say, forewarned is forearmed. I am not rabidly pro-animal, but I would probably cheer for the bull at a bull fight, just so you know where I stand.

Cockfighting is legal, normal, and accepted in the Philippines. I am not sure the fascination is so much in the fighting and blood-letting as it is in the gambling that is associated with it. In America, the popularity of “March Madness” and the Super Bowl are to some extent attributable to the billions of dollars bet on the outcomes. As far as I am concerned, my attendance was a matter of curiosity. I did not intend to bet.

May 1 is Labor Day here, and Cabcaben is one of many small towns that have an annual festival. While larger cities may have cockfighting year round, Cabcaben has it just once a year, during the Labor Day Festival. Our helper Baroy planned to enter his 15-month-old rooster in the event, so I decided to go along and experience it. Since it is illegal in most if not all of the 50 States, I have never attended a cockfight before. Earlier in the week four cocks from Corregidor had been entered and they were all winners. Roy had the same trainer/handler so he was confident that his rookie rooster would prevail.

We took the banca to Cabcaben and a tricycle to the venue, which was located on the edge of town ten feet down a steep embankment. You would drive by and never see it. The fighting surface was a simple ring, about 20 feet square, with a dirt floor – we were outdoors – and with a four foot high fence made of, what else?, chicken wire. There were only a few seats, basically a couple of benches against the fence, as opposed to bigger venues where you could expect to find a thousand seats or more.Even though the matches were scheduled to begin at 9:00 A.M., there were only a few roosters present when we arrived. Individual matches are not scheduled per se. What happens is that the handlers bring the roosters together and try to agree to a match. Of course each handler is always claiming that the other guy’s rooster is bigger and would therefore have an advantage. Eventually two men agree – there are virtually no women involved – to pit their cocks against each other. This continues even as fights are ongoing.

These male chickens are naturally aggressive toward all other males, much as Siamese fighting fish will bristle when two fish bowls containing them are put side by side. Some are fed human multi-vitamins, and in bigger events they are probably juiced up with steroids to try to gain an advantage. But there isn’t a lot of pre-fight training that can be done, since you’d probably end up with a dead or maimed rooster if you attempted it. They just seem to know how to put up their dukes and go at it with each other.

To make sure that the cockfight doesn’t last too long, a razor-sharp, three-inch curved blade is placed on the left ankle of each rooster, angled in slightly. When the handlers are in the ring the blades are covered in plastic, which is not removed until just before the fight. The handlers must be very careful not to be slashed on their arms once the covers are removed.

The object is to bet, so a favorite has to be established. I got the impression that this was determined by which owner was willing to put up more money at the outset. After all, if owner number one is willing to bet 1000 pesos (note P1000 is about $20) and owner two P5000, the second guy would appear to have more confidence in his rooster. He goes to the favorite side. Then the drama begins.

It seemed noisy before this, just from the sound of all the cock-a-doodle-dos that all of the roosters were constantly crowing. This was nothing compared to the yelling which now ensued as bettors were trying to find takers. It works like this: men who wanted to back the favorite would yell something that sounds like “meron” [meh-ROHN]. They would hold up fingers, five meaning P500, for example. If they could get the attention of someone wanting to bet on the underdog a bet would be consummated. Often all you heard was “meron, meron,” as few would take the bet. But often the initial underdog would become the favorite, in which case the cries would switch to “sa wala” [swah-LAH]. Soon men were just yelling out numbers, presumably betting amounts, and I couldn’t tell which side they were backing, but somehow the other bettors knew which side they wanted.

As in all gambling the only eventual winner is the house, since it gets a cut of all bets, although I got the impression that some of the men were cutting out the middleman by placing their own bets amongst themselves. Anyway, there is a 10% house cut, meaning that if you want to bet P500 you are in fact putting up P550. So after each fight the loser hands P550 to the bet collector who in turn hands P500 to the winner.

While the betting is going on, the two handlers are holding their roosters in such a way that they start to show aggression towards each other. They even let them peck each other a few times. The bettors are watching this closely and trying to determine which rooster seems more likely to win. In reality the louder or more aggressive rooster is no more likely to win, but you know how gamblers are. They each have their own way of picking a winner. Usually one rooster will strike a lucky blow and the odds are almost always 50-50.When the betting is completed the covers are taken off the blades and the handlers set the roosters on the ground about three feet apart. Once in a while it takes some time to get the fight started, as they seem to be ignoring each other. But most of the time the two are fighting almost immediately. Quite often they both fly into the air and attack with their feet. In most cases, if one gets on top he is able to inflict a serious and often fatal wound in the blink of an eye. Most of the roosters were dark, almost greenish-black, so you might not see the blood at first. With the blond roosters a fatal blow was obvious, often before the cock collapsed. Fights last from 15 seconds to a few minutes, since occasionally the roosters tire out before there is a winner, and the referee has to set them to fighting again.

In Roy’s case, both roosters looked alike and fought alike. I soon lost track of which rooster was which, but the man next to me was able to set me straight when the two settled down for a second. When they went at it again the man told me Roy’s rooster looked like it was going to win. Five seconds later it received a fatal blow to the neck and the fight was over. Both roosters died, but Roy’s was declared the loser since the other one lived an additional minute. It had to have been close to a draw, and there was at least one draw during the matches. In most cases one of the roosters is killed during the fight, sometimes both, and in every case the loser is dinner, even if he manages to leave the ring alive.

Roy told me that he and his Corregidor buddies had bet P13,000 on his rooster, so they collectively lost about $275, a lot of money to these guys. The winner also gets to keep the loser’s rooster for chicken soup or whatever he wants. Roy was not discouraged, however, and says he’s going to start raising another soon.

At first I was seated next to the fence, and stayed there several matches after Roy’s rooster lost. It was sprinkling lightly all morning, and when the rain got heavier I moved under a canopy, since I had seen enough. More and more men were crowding around the ring, and near the end the betting got more intense, probably from bettors trying to make up for lost money.

Cockfighting is part of the Philippine culture, and I personally don’t find it as objectionable as, say, dog fighting. But it really doesn’t do a whole lot for me. I’m not a gambler. Will I ever go back? Possibly to support Roy or other friends on the island. On the other hand, if I never see another cockfight it won’t break my heart, that’s for sure.

Steve (with Marcia editing)

To see more of Steve's cockfight photos, go yo:http://picasaweb.google.com/steveandmarciaontherock/20090430CockFight#

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About Me

We retired in our mid-50's and moved to Corregidor, a WWII battlesite in the Philippines. Steve's father Walter fought and was captured there by the Japanese, but survived the war. Steve wrote a book about his father, "HONOR, COURAGE, FAITH: A Corregidor Story," which is available in paperback in the Philippines, and on Amazon Kindle worldwide.
Steve and Marcia loved to entertain guests on Corregidor and take them to out-of-the-way places on the island. They also host tours for Valor Tours, LTD of San Francisco.